


I'll Be Your Quiet Afternoon Crush (Your Violent Overnight Rush)

by wherehopelies



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Proposal!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: AU based on the Sandra Bullock Ryan Reynolds classic, The ProposalFor Junksen Week Day 6 - Enemies to Lovers





	I'll Be Your Quiet Afternoon Crush (Your Violent Overnight Rush)

Emily was late.

She hurried up the street, dodging pedestrians and food carts and taxis. She checked the time as she rounded a corner and let out a yelp.

She was _so_ late.

Emily was the kind of person who was always late, which was bad for her, because her boss was the kind of person who was always early.

Her boss did not stand for tardiness, so Emily had, to counteract her lateness, attempted to get to work a half hour early every day. Therefore, when she was fifteen minutes late, she was still also fifteen minutes early.

Today, however, she was running fifteen minutes late on top of her usual fifteen minutes, and would probably get to work right on time - and her boss was of the sound belief that if you were on time, you were late.

She picked up the pace as her building came into view. She rushed through the doors, yelling hello to Bill the doorman, and, forgoing the elevators (they were much too slow), sprinted up eleven flights of stairs.

Panting, she pushed open the door to Royce Records - and ran right into an intern carrying a cup of coffee.

“Oh - cra- holy mother that’s hot!”

She screeched as the coffee scalded down the front of her blouse.

“So sorry, Ms. Junk!” The intern gaped in horror.

Emily, who had been a little preoccupied with the burning pain of hot liquid, looked down at herself and groaned. Her new white blouse, that she had bought specifically to wear with her new navy skirt, was covered in splotches of brown.

“Um, that’s - that’s quite alright,” she told the intern, trying to quell the rising panic in her chest. “I’ve got a backup just for this reason.”

The relieved intern nodded and ran to grab some paper towels. Emily rushed off to the restroom, pulling her emergency blouse from her bag as she went.

It was fine, she told herself. _Fine_. But her emergency blouse was black, and her skirt navy, and she cringed at her appearance in the mirror. She was sure her boss would have something to say about this.

Then, remembering why she had been running in the first place, she grabbed her bag and hurried out of the restroom and toward her cubicle.

She had just put her bag down when she received an IM from Bill the doorman.

 _Something wicked this way comes_.

Emily almost choked on air. She wasn’t ready.

She quickly gathered up the day’s folders and papers, pulled up her boss’ schedule on her computer, and sent an IM to the rest of the lower level staff.

 _She’s coming_.

From the cubicles around her came the sound of employees sitting straighter, closing out of social media, stopping idle chit chat. Emily positioned herself outside the elevator doors just as they dinged to a stop on their floor.

And out walked Aubrey Posen, Senior VP of Production, and, unfortunately, Emily’s boss.

“Good morning, Ms. Posen,” Emily said, falling into stride with the commanding blonde. “Have a nice weekend?”

“It was fine,” clipped her boss, purse swinging from her arm and almost knocking over a potted plant on a nearby table. “Daily rundown?”

Emily went through the day’s schedule as they walked. “... a meeting scheduled with the partner’s this afternoon discussing your firing of Bumper Allen.” They finally arrived at Ms. Posen’s office and Emily shut the door carefully behind them, lowering her voice. “And lastly, the Immigration Office called again about your status, saying it was urgent and you must set up a meeting with them.”

“Confirm the meeting with the partners and take my messages.” Ms. Posen finally looked at Emily, her lips turning down in a frown. “And furthermore, please make sure your outfits match before coming to work. You look ridiculous.”

Emily pursed her lips, but nodded. “Yes, Ms. Posen.”

And with that she scurried out of the office.

//

“And then she told me to make sure my outfits match before coming into work and that I look ridiculous. Ugh!” Emily felt like pulling out her hair. “She is _so_ infuriating.”

Beca raised an eyebrow, not unsympathetically. “Quit then. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times.”

“I can’t! Then I’ll have wasted the three years I’ve been her assistant and one day…” Emily took a deep breath. “One day I _will_ be a songwriter.”

She sighed and stabbed at her salad while Beca fiddled with the levels of the soundtable. Emily was spending her lunch, as she always did, in the recording studio with Beca, the one place, thanks to its soundproof walls, she felt she could freely rant about her boss.

Beca was her best friend at the recording studio where they worked, had gotten her this job, and was, incidentally, also her step-sister. But Beca was also a talented music producer, not a lowly assistant to the devil herself like Emily was, and therefore could not properly understand why Emily couldn’t just _quit_. Beca, in fact, barely ever had to interact with Senior VP Aubrey Posen, and as Emily reminded her, was better off for it.

“Oh,” Beca said, turning back to her. “Don’t forget about Founder’s Day this weekend.”

“I haven’t,” Emily said matter of factly. “I’ve been looking forward to it for months because it’s been ages since I’ve even had a day off.”

Beca grunted. “You’re excited to go home?”

Emily shrugged. “Ms. Posen makes home feel like paradise.”

“She’s really that bad huh?”

Emily nodded. Then, noting the time, she sighed and packed up her lunch. Saying a quick goodbye to Beca, she hurried off back to work.

//

“Now remember, you’re just a prop in there. I’ll do all the talking.”

Ms. Posen swept her long hair out of her face as they rode up in the elevator to her meeting with the partners. Emily nodded obediently. “Yes, Ms. Posen. Also, while we have a moment, I just wanted to remind you I’ll be going home to Georgia on Thursday afternoon and won’t be here on Friday.”

“Oh is that this weekend?” Ms. Posen frowned. “Yes, fine, fine.”

“Also, again, the Immigration Office left another message and I _really_ think you should - ”

But Emily did not get the chance to tell her boss what she should do, as the elevator doors opened and Ms. Posen rushed out.

Emily followed behind her briskly, snapping her mouth shut as her boss knocked on the office of one of the partners and promptly stepped inside.

“Aubrey! Welcome.” The partners were lounging in the sitting area of their large office, two glasses of whiskey on the table between them. “Whiskey?”

“No thank you,” Aubrey smiled sweetly. “How are you, boys?”

“Oh,” said one of the partners. “We’d be better, except for the lawsuit Bumper Allen is throwing at us.”

Ms. Posen rolled her eyes. “I assure you, he has no case. He breached contract and I was just in firing him.”

“We’re having our lawyers look into it,” said the other partner, nodding his head. “We actually have another reason for bringing you up.”

“Oh?”

“We have received word from the INS that your visa is expired and you are facing deportation.”

Aubrey froze, her smile still in place, but Emily could see panic in her eyes. “Ah. Y-yes.” She cleared her throat. “I am aware. And I have not, uh, sought renewal because… because I am getting married.”

The partners gave her a surprised. “Are you? And who is the lucky fellow?”

“Not a fellow at all,” Aubrey said, looking around wildly. “I’m marrying Emily.”

Emily blinked as the eyes of the partners met hers. She could not have heard correctly because it sounded like Ms. Posen had just said she was marrying -

“Emily?” Exclaimed the partners.

“Yes,” Aubrey smiled, getting into the act. She stepped back a stride and put her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “We had been keeping it quiet because, you know, I’m her boss, and Emily here is up for promotion, so we didn’t want to, ah, complicate that.”

“Well, then!” The partners looked impressed. “Congratulations Emily!”

Ms. Posen gave her a murderous look and Emily forced her shocked expression into a weak smile. “Uh, thank you, sirs.”

“Well, that settles that,” said one of the partners. “Make it legal, then, Aubrey. Don’t dilly dally.”

“Yes, sir.”

They said their goodbyes and left the office, Emily following behind her boss in some kind of trance. Once they were in the elevator, Emily stared at the woman.

“What?”

“Married?!” Emily exclaimed.

“Oh, please. It’s not like you have a boyfriend.” Aubrey was scrolling through her phone, thoroughly unfazed. “It will be a quick green card wedding and after an acceptable non-suspicious allotment of time, we’ll get a quickie divorce and you’ll be free.”

Emily let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and groan. When the elevator stopped on the eleventh floor, Aubrey got out, but Emily pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Emily? What are you doing?”

Emily hit the button again and the doors began to close.

“Emily!” Aubrey slipped back onto the elevator, the doors banging into her before closing. “Pull yourself together.”

Emily said nothing, just jammed the button a few more times, even as the elevator began to move. When it reached the ground floor, Emily stepped out as quickly as possible, her brain whirling wildly.

“Howdy, Emily!” Bill the doorman called to her, but Emily did not wave back. She burst out onto the busy New York streets, gulping in air.

Her phone started buzzing frantically in her pocket, but she ignored it.

“Is this the beginning of an epic freakout or something?” Ms. Posen’s voice cut through the sound of heavy traffic and cars honking. “Should I get you a Xanax?”

Emily whipped around. “Married. Oh my stars.” She pointed her finger at her boss. “This is illegal,” she hissed. “We could go to jail!”

Aubrey scoffed. “Oh please, we won’t go to jail. But we do need to go to the Immigration Office tomorrow, so be sure to wear something more appropriate than your mismatched outfit.”

Then her boss smiled at her and headed back into the building, her blonde hair vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Gritting her teeth, Emily decided she was taking the rest of the day off.

//

Emily never imagined she’d be sitting in the uncomfortable chairs of the office of an Immigration official holding Aubrey Posen’s hand, but there she was.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she whispered.

“Relax.” Aubrey didn’t seem worried at all. She was scrolling through her email, yawning.

“Good afternoon,” a man said, entering the office and throwing a file folder down on the desk. “My name is John Smith.”

“John Smith,” Aubrey let out a laugh. “Guess they put the most American of all men on this job, right?”

John glared at them. “That’s right, Girlie.”

Aubrey’s smile fell and Emily felt a wave of nausea break over her.

“Let’s get to it,” John continued. “I have just one question for you.”

“Oh, just one?” Aubrey’s smile returned. “And they say the citizenship process is difficult.”

“Are the both of you committing fraud so that Ms. Posen may avoid deportation back to Canada and keep her job as Senior Vice President of Royce Records?”

Emily squeaked, causing Aubrey to squeeze her hand threateningly. “That is, of course, ridiculous, and I don’t know where you would get such an idea.”

“We received a tip from a former employee.”

Aubrey raised one menacing eyebrow. “Was it by chance Bumper Allen?”

“Yes, Bumper Allen.”

“Sir, I see the problem here.” Aubrey gave a placating smile. “Mr. Allen breached contract with Royce Records and was terminated. He is nothing more than an employee with a grudge. Now, we don’t want to trouble you, it’s clear you’re quite busy. So why don’t you just tell us the next step of the process and we’ll be out of your hair.”

John appraised them over his folded hands. “Let me tell you how this works. First, I will schedule an interview with each of you. I will lock you individually in a room and ask you every little, most detailed question that a couple would know about each other. Then, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, your bank statements, I interview your family and coworkers. I put your life under a microscope. And if I find even one thing that doesn’t fall in line with your relationship as you’ve described it, I will deport you, Ms. Posen. And you Ms. Junk, will have committed a felony, for which you will be subject to paying a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine and five years in jail. Do I make myself clear?”

Emily gulped, feeling sweat down her back.

“So, Ms. Junk,” John’s gaze bore into her eyes. “Is there anything you would like to tell me while you still can?”

“Um. The truth is…” She looked at Aubrey and saw murder in her eyes. “The truth is, Aubrey and I… were just two people who never should have fallen in love. But we did. We simply couldn’t tell anyone because of my big promotion coming up.”

“Promotion?”

Emily nodded. “We both felt it would be deeply inappropriate if I were to be promoted from lowly assistant to official songwriter while we were romantically involved.”

Next to her Aubrey was looking at her, but Emily refused to meet her eyes in case her expression was murderous.

“I see.” John cleared his throat. “So have you told your parents, then?”

“My parents are both dead,” Aubrey said, a look of smug triumph crossing her face. “I have no other family.”

“And you, Ms. Junk?”

Aubrey leaned forward. “We were going to tell them this weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“Yes, I’m going back home to Emily’s in, uh, Georgia.”

Emily looked at her. “You were?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Right,” Emily nodded. “Yes.”

John looked at them suspiciously, but eventually nodded. “You may leave, and I will see you both for your scheduled interview next week.”

//

“Emily!”

Emily was walking as quick as possible but only because she thought running might be suspicious.

“Emily, why are you strutting away from me? It’s completely inappropriate.”

Emily spun around as Aubrey caught up with her. “I’m sorry, did you not here that conversation just now?”

“I was, and I wanted to say you were genius, saying all that stuff about the promotion.” Aubrey gave her what was perhaps the first genuine smile she had ever given her. “Quick thinking.”

Emily glared. “I was serious about that.”

“Excuse me?” Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest, her blue eyes flashing angrily. “No way.”

“I do not have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Aubrey!” Emily was getting worked up and she tried to take a deep breath. “I can’t go to jail for five years! I wouldn’t last five minutes!”

Aubrey scoffed. “Of course you would. You’re gorgeous, you’d get a prison wife immediately.”

“This is not a joke! This changes things!”

“There is no way I’m promoting you.”

Emily grimaced. “Fine, then I quit and you can get deported. Send me a postcard!”

She turned to leave, but Aubrey grabbed her wrist. “Fine! Fine. You can be promoted to _Assistant_ Songwriter under Cynthia Rose.” She dropped Emily’s wrist. “If you do the Georgia weekend and the interview next week, I will promote you, happy?”

“You will promote me immediately. Not in another three years. I’ve had enough of being your assistant.”

“Fine!”

“And we will tell my family about our engagement when and how I want.”

Aubrey scowled. “Any other demands?”

“Yes.” Emily smirked. “Ask me to marry you. Properly.”

Aubrey gaped at her. “Here?”

“Yes. You should kneel.”

“On the… on the street?! This is New York City!”

She turned away again. “Goodbye, Aubrey.”

“Okay!” Aubrey carefully knelt down on one knee, grinning up at Emily like she might murder her. “Will you marry me?”

“Mmm… no.”

Aubrey sighed. She forced her smile into something more pleasant. “Emily Junk. Will you please do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

Emily waited for a long pause just because it felt good to finally have some control in her own life. Then she smiled sweetly at Aubrey. “Fine.”

And then she walked away, leaving Aubrey Posen, Senior VP of Royce Records, kneeling on the dirty street.

//

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

Emily flinched. “Can you lower your voice?”

“No! Dude what the hell?” Beca paced back and forth in their apartment, staring daggers at Emily. “I had to find out from Theo who found out from Bill who found out from Mary who overheard Jan…” Beca took a deep breath. “That you’re _engaged_. To Satan herself!”

Emily grimaced. “She’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Not _that_ bad.” Beca stopped her pacing and stared at her. “Emily, all I have heard from you for three years is that Aubrey Posen is the world’s biggest bitch.”

“I never said that.”

“You said even puppies couldn’t love her.”

Emily wanted to tell Beca it was fake, but she was scared. That Immigration agent said he would interview everyone in their lives. What if Beca accidentally gave her away?

“Look,” Emily said. “I know I’ve been… negative about her in the past. But I had to put up an act so nobody would suspect we were dating.”

“I don’t believe this,” Beca grumbled. “And you’re bringing her _home_ with us.”

Emily’s stomach squirmed. “Yeah. For… For Founder’s Day.”

“You’re crazy dude.”

“I know.”

Beca sighed, finally flopping next to Emily on the couch and patting her thigh awkwardly. “Well, I’m happy for you, then. But you do know that I don’t give a fuck if she’s our boss, right? I’m still gonna vet her.”

Emily managed a small laugh. “I know.”

“Oh shit.” Beca suddenly smirked wickedly. “You know who we’re gonna see?”

“Who?”

“Benji.” Beca cackled. “Oh she’s gonna eat him alive.”

Emily barely suppressed her groan.

//

Aubrey was trying to nap, but next to her, Emily was flipping through the booklet they received.

“So these are the questions the INS is gonna ask us. Good news, I know all of this stuff about you. Bad news, I don’t think you know any of it about me.”

Aubrey frowned, not bothering to open her eyes. “There’s no way you know the answer to all those questions about me.”

“Unfortunately, I do, because I have no life outside of being your assistant.”

Aubrey scoffed, finally opening her eyes. She snatched the booklet from Emily and flipped to a random page. “Oh really? What am I allergic to?”

“Bees. And boy bands.”

“Ha ha.” Aubrey scanned the page. “Do I have any scars?”

“On your left shoulder,” Emily said immediately. “From a scuba diving accident. I’m also pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

Aubrey raised an eyebrows. “Oh, are you?”

“Yep. You had an appointment with your dermatologist about a Q switch laser, which I Googled, and discovered they remove tattoos. But you did a last minute cancellation.” Aubrey didn’t say anything Emily smirked at her. “So where is it?”

“I never realized you were so smug, Emily.”

“As I said before, I don’t think you know much about me.” Emily put one of her earbuds in. “And you’re gonna have to tell me what and where your tattoo is.”

Aubrey snorted. “Not happening.”

“Then say goodbye to your citizenship.” And with that, Emily put her other earbud in and closed her eyes.

Aubrey sighed and continued flipping through the pamphlet, trying to find a question she knew the answer to and frowning when she realized she didn’t even know Emily’s middle name.

She tried not to let the feel of panic grow within her. She was in control. She could learn this stuff.

Everything was going to be fine.

//

Aubrey watched the city turn to suburb turn to rich, green farmland.  Finally, they turned onto a small country road and stopped at a large iron gate.

“Oh, they changed the combo, Em. It’s 5361 now.”

“Thanks, Bec.”

Aubrey had been quiet the whole ride from the airport, letting the two step-sisters talk about going home and the events of the weekend. Now, she watched as Emily leaned out of the car window and pressed the code into the keyboard. The gate in front of them slowly swung inward.

Emily drove up a long driveway. Aubrey couldn’t see where they were headed, her view blocked by the tall, manicured hedges around them. Finally, the road curved and the path before them opened. Aubrey barely held in her gasp.

“This is where you grew up?”

“Mhmm,” Emily said, pushing her sunglasses up on her head.

“Home sweet home,” Beca grumbled from the backseat.

Aubrey didn’t get the big deal. The antebellum estate loomed before them, a great mansion at the end of a sprawling lawn. Aubrey had never imagined where Emily had grown up, but she hadn’t expected this.

Aubrey was used to grandeur. As a high-ranking military official back in Canada, her father had always been well-off. They had always lived comfortably, even when they lived on base.

But this… this was everything out of a southern fairytale.

Emily parked the rental car in front of the porch behind a golf cart. She could see a Mercedes in front of the garage, along with an old blue pickup truck that seemed out of place.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” Aubrey said.

“No, you’re not,” Beca laughed. “But there’s no turning back now.” Aubrey followed her gaze and saw a woman standing at the railing of the wide wraparound front porch. Rocking gently behind her was a hammock that she had clearly just vacated.

Emily got out of the car, beaming. “Hi, Mom.”

“Emily!” The woman opened her arms as she rushed off the porch, swallowing Emily in a hug. “And Beca, hello!”

“Hey, Mrs. Junk.”

“Beca, please. Will you ever call me Katherine?”

Beca grinned. “No can do, Mrs. J. I’m wired this way.”

“Mom,” Emily said. “This is my… girlfriend, Aubrey.”

Emily’s mom finally seemed to notice her. Aubrey, of course, had been raised with excellent manners, and she had amazing social grace. She stepped forward and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Junk.”

“Oh, don’t you start with that, too! Call me, Katherine.” She bypassed Aubrey’s hand and swept aubrey up in a massive hug.

“Oh.” She froze, unprepared for such quick full-body contact. She cleared her throat. “Okay. Katherine.”

Katherine pulled back, keeping Aubrey at arm’s length. “We are so happy you’re here. Emily has kept quiet about you, and it’s so unlike her to bring someone home!”

“Mom,” Emily warned, her cheeks red. Aubrey briefly thought it was endearing, but her feelings quickly turned smug when she realized she could hold this over Emily later as payback for her teasing on the plane.

“Alright, alright!” Katherine leaned close to Aubrey conspiratorially. “They are so testy with us, but I can show you pictures from their,” she made air-quotes, “emo phase.”

Aubrey smiled as Emily exclaimed, “Mom! That’s enough!” She grabbed Aubrey by the arm and pulled her up the front steps.

“Told you you weren’t ready,” Beca murmured behind her, but Aubrey was suddenly quite sure this weekend might prove more entertaining than she had expected.

//

As they entered the house, Aubrey couldn’t help but gape at the large entrance hall. She was certain she looked undignified, but she had never seen such a magnificent chandelier or such an impressive rotunda.

Emily was still dragging her along, but she dropped Aubrey’s arm and instead took her bag from her. “I’m going to put these upstairs,” she muttered. Beca followed her and Aubrey was left with Katherine.

“John’s at the University still, but he’ll be back in time for dinner,” Katherine said. “You’ll have to have Emily give you a tour this afternoon. Oh, I’m so happy you could come, this is the perfect weekend to visit. There’s so much going on!”

The woman had the same annoying tendency as her to daughter to ramble, but Aubrey managed a smile. “That all sounds lovely, Katherine.”

And it did. This all may be an act, but so far, she was very impressed by what she’d seen.

Katherine led her into an enormous sitting room, complete with a big screen TV, stereo system, drink cart, and several comfortable couches. Aubrey was just about to sit when there was a clattering from the hall. She turned - and screamed.

“What the - ”

A large neon orange ball had just rammed straight into her ankle of its own accord.

“That’s Tupac,” Emily said as she entered the room. “He’s just a hamster, no need for theatrics.”

Aubrey gaped downward as the bright ball began to zoom around the room. “Your - your hamster.”

“He likes to be in his ball,” Emily shrugged.

“Emily!” Katherine called. “I was just telling Aubrey you could give her a tour.”

“Sure,” Emily said. “Come on Tupac!”

And Aubrey watched in amazement as Emily walked toward the back door, and the hamster _followed_ , rolling after her, like some kind of eager puppy.

“He likes to roll outside,” Emily explained like this was completely normal behavior for a hamster. “As long as you watch that the hawks don’t get him.” She opened the door and the orange ball rolled outside. Aubrey, dumbfounded, followed him.

Emily gave her a tour of the vast grounds, starting with the stables. Three horses inhabited them, but Emily pointed out a broad chestnut one. “That’s Millie. Don’t tell the others, but she’s my favorite.”

The sprawling lawns held large paddocks for the horses and a beautiful garden. Aubrey wanted to explore it, but Emily just passed it on their way to the pool, saying, “uh, yeah, that’s my mom’s garden. I don’t usually go in there.”

At this point, Tupac got tired of rolling, so Emily picked him up and carried him in her arms. Up close, Aubrey was able to see he was gray hamster, and utterly massive, almost the size of a chinchilla.

“How is your hamster so fat if the likes to run around this giant yard in his ball?”

Emily glared at her. “He’s big boned.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes, but said nothing in response.

Emily then showed her a nicely decorated guest house that was, for some absurd reason, empty. “My uncle used to live there, but he moved,” Emily shrugged.

Finally, they came back to the house and Emily showed her the full-size pool, complete with waterfall, jacuzzi, and pool-side cabana.

They entered back through the back door and into the sitting room where Beca was lounging on the couch, stuffing her face with Pringles and watching something on the TV. Katherine heard them come in and came out of the kitchen.

“Oh there you are. John’s going to be home any minute and - ” she snatched the Pringles from Beca who let out an indignant, “hey!” - “we are going to be eating dinner. So you should all go wash up.”

Beca huffed and rolled her eyes, but led the way out of the room. They took the rotunda upstairs. Following Emily, Aubrey curiously looked around as they went, taking in the pictures on the walls. Many of them were professionally taken family photos, where Emily, Beca, Katherine, and an unknown man who must be Beca’s dad, John, were dressed up and posing.

Aubrey bit back her smirk at the clearly forced smiles on teenage Emily and Beca’s faces.

Beca kept walking, but Emily opened a door just a little bit down the hall. “Uh, so this is my room, and we’ll be staying here.”

Aubrey froze. “What? We don’t get separate rooms?”

Emily shot her a bewildered glance. “We’re supposed to be in love. They expect us to share.”

“But…” Aubrey gaped. “Aren’t they old-fashioned southern people who find it undignified to - to - I don’t know! Have premarital relations?”

“No?” Emily rolled her eyes. “This is 2018.” At the look of horror on Aubrey’s face, Emily sighed. “Look, you can have the bed. I’ll take the floor, okay?”

Reluctantly, Aubrey nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

They washed and got ready for dinner. Aubrey helped Emily set the table and they’d just finished when the front door opened and a smart looking man came into the kitchen.

“Beca? Are you home?”

“Hi Dad,” Beca said, offering her dad a much shorter and less enthusiastic hug than she gave Katherine.

“Emily, so good to see you. And this,” he said, turning, “must be Aubrey! I’m John, or Dr. Mitchell, whichever you prefer.”

Aubrey stuck out her hand and, thankfully, Dr. Mitchell shook it. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Sir?” He barked out a laugh. “You snatched up a polite one, Emmy.”

“Mhmm,” Emily hummed absentmindedly. Aubrey saw her quickly snatch a crouton from the salad bowl and pop it in her mouth. She caught Aubrey looking and narrowed her eyes, as if daring Aubrey to say something about it.

Aubrey briefly thought it was cute, but was saved from thinking on it further by dinner being served.

The conversation was light as the family discussed plans for the weekend and Founder’s Day celebrations, whatever that was. Aubrey was content to eat Mrs. Junk’s cooking and listen until Beca and Emily started talking about work.

“So, Aubrey,” John said after a minute of this, interrupting Beca and Emily. “Do you think these two have what it takes to make it in the music business?”

“Oh, John, stop.” Katherine pursed her lips. “Beca was promoted to producer last year. She’s doing fine.”

“It’s just not a stable career path for these girls.” He gestured toward Aubrey. “Sure, she’s a Senior VP, so her job is secure. Emily’s just an assistant.”

Something in his tone made Aubrey bristle. It reminded her of her own father. “Actually,” Aubrey interjected, swallowing her sip of wine. “Emily’s been promoted. She’s an in-house writer now.”

Beca dropped her fork. “What?! Em, you didn’t tell me that!”

Emily blushed and murmured something about it not being official.

“No doubt it was your influence,” Katherine beamed at Aubrey.

Aubrey doesn’t know why she said it. She’d never even laid eyes on one of Emily’s songs. “No. Emily is a natural writer. She did it on her own.”

Emily gaped at her. Then she turned on her mom. “That’s… that’s right. But thanks for the confidence, Mom.”

“Honey, you know I didn’t mean… ”

Emily shrugged, her fork scraping across her plate. Then she looked up, a fierce look in her eyes. “Mom, John. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Aubrey watched her curiously, having no idea what to expect.

“Aubrey and I are getting married.”

Oh, right. That.

“What?!” Katherine gasped, tears springing up in her eyes. “Oh my stars, Emily, congratulations!”

John was grinning at them. “Wow, I’ll be damned! Welcome to the family, Aubrey.” He reached across the table and shook Aubrey’s hand again.

Aubrey felt a pang in her stomach that had nothing to do with the food she just ate. Here these people were, welcoming her into their family and home, even as Aubrey was taking advantage of their daughter.

 _Emily agreed to this_ , Aubrey told herself. _Blackmailed you about it really._

She forced a smile at everyone around the table as Katherine got up to get champagne. They all were talking excitedly, even Emily. All except Beca that is, who was watching Aubrey through narrowed eyes. When their gazes met, she raised an eyebrow.

Had Emily told her?

She averted her eyes, but was ashamed of her guilt. She was Aubrey Posen, and her father had taught her to never back down.

After champagne and dessert, they turned in for bed, Katherine reminding them to put a sock on the door if they were going to be intimate.

Aubrey, Emily, and Beca all left the room, horrified.

While Aubrey changed, Emily set up a temporary bed of fluffy blankets on the floor. She’d just crawled into them when Aubrey rushed out of the bathroom in her tiny sleep shorts and silk tank top.

Emily laughed, this quiet thing that filled the room with warmth. Aubrey scoffed. “I thought we would be in separate rooms,” she justified. “I didn’t think we’d be privy to each other’s pajamas.”

“They’re cute,” Emily chirped from the floor. Aubrey couldn’t see her expression.

“Did you tell your step-sister our arrangement?”

“No.” The lightness in Emily’s voice had vanished. “I’ll never tell them. You saw how happy they are.”

Aubrey felt another pang of guilt but swallowed it down. She rolled over and turned off the bedside light.

“They’re nice.”

“Yeah. They are.” Emily’s tone made it clear the conversation was over.

Aubrey settled into her pillow, staring out at the slice of moon she could see through a gap in the curtains.

Maybe she shouldn’t have done this.

 _No_ , she reminded herself. She _had_ to.

And on that thought, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at emilyjunk.tumblr.com. if you read this in time for junksen week day 7 (8/11), I'm taking moodboard requests for free choice day


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